


How to hide a pup from your SO

by corkuponatide



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Puppy Fic, big gruff dude with a dog, oh my!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corkuponatide/pseuds/corkuponatide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward overhears Skye talking to someone—or something?—in her bunk. When he finds out what she's hiding, will he let her keep it, or rat her out to the team? Set sometime in season 1, before all the Hydra drama. Chapter 1 is Skyeward if you squint. Chapters 2 and 3 are definitely Skyeward. WARNING: the rating will change from Teen to Mature for chapter 3. Fluff, angst, and romance—oh my!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Aw, you want some more? Here you go, little guy.” Skye giggles as the pup licks her finger. “Who’s a good wittle itty bitty—ow! No! Bad. No teeth. Nobody likes teeth. You’re a bad—God you’re so cute and squishy and—”

Skye hears a sturdy knock at her bunk door and jumps, knocking the peanut butter onto the floor. She scurries to hide the puppy in her closet and climbs over the railing back into bed. With covers. No, no covers. It’s warm on the Bus. That would look suspicious. She throws off the covers and smooths them under her thighs. 

Another knock, followed by her SO’s bellowing voice. “Skye?”

“What?” Earbuds. She should wear earbuds. She’ll look even less suspicious. She finds them under a book, under a cup of soda, on her nightstand and starts to yank. They’re caught on something.

“Skye!”

“Whaaaat? Ward, I’m busy.” She whines in her most effective teenager voice and yanks even harder on her earbuds. The cup of soda topples and hits the carpet. “Shit! Mother…”

Ward slides the bunk door open, and immediately lifts an eyebrow at Skye and her earbuds tangled half in the nightstand lamp and half in her outstretched fist. Her laptop is spilling off her legs and into an open bag of Cheetos. Her hair is disheveled and her covers are an absolute mess. “Were you talking to yourself?” he says finally.

“Probably?” she manages, yanking again as the earbuds finally slap her in the chest and her laptop crushes her Cheetos. “Did you need something?”

Ward narrows his eyes at her and glances down at the floor, surveying the spilled pop and peanut butter. “You _really_ need to—”

“Clean my room, I know.” She stuffs a pink bra, a dirty blue sock, and a pair of flannel boxers behind her into the sheets. Then flicks a Cheetos crumb off her shirt for good measure. “Unless you’re volunteering for the task, I’m gonna have to ask you to lea—”

Just then, the puppy whines. Skye’s eyes fly open wide, and then she recovers and throws a hand over her stomach. “Well that’s embarrassing.” She has the foresight to blush a little. “You should probably go.”

So Ward does just the opposite. Toeing the peanut butter aside, he tromps into the bunk with his tactical boots and looks around the room. Everything in here is perfectly Skye. Perfectly a mess. He brushes rough fingers against the grain of the closet door, to Skye’s immediate protest.

“Ohhhkay there Ward. Crossing boundaries here.” Pushing her laptop and Cheetos aside, she scoots to the edge of the bed and squints up at the older man with all the annoyance she can muster. “Did you seriously come in here to look at my pile of dirty underwear? ‘Cause I swear to you, if you open that door, you won’t be able to look me in the eye for a week.”

Ward looks her in the eye, and against his will, his gaze flickers down to the olive-toned skin of her legs. Her earbuds are wrapped around her thigh, the cord disappearing into one leg of her shorts.

He lowers his hand from the closet door. “I was expecting you downstairs 7 minutes ago.”

“Wow, specific much?”

“For training.”

“You mean for _Battleship_.”

He nods. “Training.”

“Ward, Battleship is not training. It’s a board game. And I’m busy.”

“I can have you do pushups if that’s what you prefer.”

“It’s not even _time_ for training! It’s time for me to eat Oreos while you crush me in board games older than your grandpa and disrespect my snack foods.”

“It’s impossible to disrespect snack foods,” Ward counters. “Snack foods are disgusting. And my grandpa is dead.”

“I still don’t understand why we can’t play Hungry Hippos. I really like that game.” Skye rips the earbuds out of her shorts and throws them next to the peanut butter. “And I told you, I’m busy tonight.”

Ward tromps back to the door of the bunk and shoves an accusatory finger over his shoulder. “If you aren’t down there in 10 minutes—”

“Bite me,” she replies, and the puppy starts scratching at the closet door, causing little ‘thumping’ noises against the frame.

Ward spares Skye the quickest of glances before he crosses the room again and pries the closet door open. Skye just barely has the chance to lunge at him; she’s holding onto Ward’s knee, while he’s holding onto the closet door, and the soft little puppy is glancing between them both.

Desperate, Skye starts talking. “Ward, wait—”

He bends down and picks up the pup by the scruff of his neck. He’s small and blond, with one ear flopping downward and the other curled upward, over his ridiculously fuzzy head. “Skye, what the _hell_ is this?” 

Skye pushes off of his leg and settles back onto the mattress. “I can explain, okay? Let’s not get all huffy.” She gives the puppy a tiny wave and soft little wink and opens her mouth to start babbling at it.

“Skye!” She closes her mouth. “You brought a _dog_ on the—”

“Shhhhhhhh!” she squeaks and swats angrily at his leg. “Keep your big, stupid voice down. Why do you think I’m hiding him?”

“Why _are_ you hiding him!?”

“I found him, okay?” Skye hisses. “On our last mission. You guys left me alone in the van. And he was just there, in the street, and so soft, and so cold…” She turns her lips down at Ward, emphasizing the point again. “So cold…”

“We didn’t ‘leave you alone’ in the van.” Ward. Always has to be accurate. “It was your _job_ to run communications from the van. And instead, you were outside cooing over this…this…” He lifts the dog higher and it gives a small yip and wiggles in Ward’s steady grasp. “This _thing_. Meanwhile, I was getting my ass _handed_ to me by a small army of titanium cyborg freaks—”

The dog kicks his back feet in circles and swings to and fro in the air. He whimpers and licks his own nose.

“Ward, you’re hurting him.”

“—and I could’ve been killed while you were—”

The dog is full-body squirming now, curling his oversized paws to his chest and kicking to free himself. He gnaws at his handler’s shirt sleeve.

“—playing patty cakes with this ridiculous—”

“Patty cakes? Seriously? Is that what you think girls do while you’re off saving the—Rufus, be still!”

“You named him?”

“ _You_ ,” Skye pauses for emphasis, “need to get out of my room.” She stands up and reaches for the pup, but Ward holds it out of her grasp.

“You _named_ him!?” Ward asks again, incredulous. 

“Give me my dog.” She pulls at Ward’s biceps to lower his arm, but he easily spins from her reach, still with the dog in tow.

“I’m sorry, your what?” Ward cups his free hand to his ear.

“My freaking dog!” Skye yells, and realizes too late that now she’s announced it to the Bus.

“He is not your dog. Nor will he ever be. I’m taking him off the Bus.” When Ward makes a move for the door of her bunk, Skye bursts into action. She flings her arms around his waist and hoists him back into the room. Both Ward and pup give a small, surprised yelp. Skye slides the door closed and pushes Ward’s chest with her palm, trapping his calves against her mattress. 

“So help me God if you tell anyone about this, I will . _end_. you.” She actually snarls around the last few words and Ward has the decency to appear shocked for a second. Then the corners of his mouth curl into a curious grin as Ward regains his composure. 

“Oh, _sweetheart_ ,” his pupils go dark, “I would love to see—”

Just then, Rufus decides to pee. Directly down Ward’s black, cargoed pant leg and onto his shiny, steel toed tactical boots. 

Ward shuts his mouth and stares at the dog. Skye claps her hand to her open mouth and darts her eyes between her gruff SO and the small pup relieving himself on his shoe. 

For a moment, Ward opens his mouth to speak, but absolutely nothing comes out. He presses his lips back together and continues to stare at the dog.

Skye can’t hold it in any longer. She erupts into giggles, hunching over and holding herself, laughing and laughing until it hurts to breathe. When she gasps for air, she makes a small, pained noise in the back of her throat that makes Ward’s stomach flutter. _Oh, I am just_ so amusing, _aren’t I_ , Ward thinks darkly. 

When Skye finally stands to her full height again, her eyes are damp, her cheeks are flushed, and stray brown locks are sticking to her lips and cheekbones. She’s red and alive and wiping at her eyes with a fist now.

If Ward is honest with himself, Skye’s laughter is cloyingly sweet and contagious. He can imagine nothing more ridiculous than standing in Skye’s bunk, holding a dog, pee on his work boots, and Skye spilling out of her shirt with laughter and hair everywhere and, it just takes _everything_ in him not to break. 

He’s trained himself not to smile. Especially around Skye. He must be strong in this moment. He must be. 

He presses his lips into the straightest line he can manage. And then he glares at her. “ _Rufus_ and I,” he gestures with his dog hand, “are going to have a little talk. If you will,” he steps into Skye’s space and she backs up instinctively, “excuse us.” He’s baring his teeth at the wet-cheeked, eyeliner-smudged girl and gripping the dog even tighter now. Rufus whimpers.

“I’m…” Skye tries to talk, but she’s choking out a laugh even now. “I’ll wash your pants.” She giggles, even with Ward in her face and growling like a feral wolf, his dark eyes searing, his free hand clenched at his side. “I just…that was…” She stifles another laugh with her hand. “Wow.” How can he not find this funny? 

“Move,” Ward hisses through his teeth, and Skye stays right where she is.

“Why are you in full gear anyway? It’s like, 8:30 at night. Shouldn’t you be in your comfies?”

“Move,” he demands again, pushing her aside with his non-dog hand. But her arm is resolutely draped across the doorframe.

“I mean, you don’t really strike me as a pajamas type of guy. But jeans, at least? Anything’s gotta be comfier than that.” She imagines him in jeans and tries not to blush. 

“These _are_ my comfies!” he spits, and it really doesn’t work, because ‘comfies’ is not a very threatening word and now Skye’s biting her bottom lip like she’s going to start laughing again. Ward mentally slaps himself for getting off track. 

“Oh.” She’s chewing on her lip. “I’d hate to see what you sleep in. Or shower in! Do you even shower nake—” She stops when his mouth is suddenly a breath away from hers, and she flattens herself against the bunk door, inhaling sharply.

“Don’t,” Ward seethes against her lips. He’s not sure how he’s managed to get this close to her, but it’s too late now to back up. “You broke the rules.” It rumbles deep inside his chest, passing into Skye’s chest and thinning the air in the room. “I’m doing you a favor. Now _move_.”

Skye flicks her eyes to Ward’s lips and then back to his piercing glare. “I wasn’t going to keep him. I was looking for a good home,” she whispers.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” A challenge.

“His middle name is Buddy,” she tries. “I named him after—”

Ward doesn’t give her a chance to finish. He rips Skye away from the doorframe, a sudden flash of hulk-like rage contorted into his features. Rufus is yelping wildly, thrashing this way and that as Ward flings open the bunk door and storms across the hall. 

_The Berserker Staff_ , Skye remembers too late. _Oh no. Oh god_. She’d forgotten about the Berserker Staff and the triggers that plunged Ward into his fits of rage. She’d gone too far with the mention of his childhood dog. She darts out after the agent, ignoring the heads beginning to peek out of bunk doors surrounding her own. 

Ward is tearing across the plane and down the stairs to the cargo hold when Skye catches up to him, right at the bottom step, and desperately clings to his arm.

“Ward _please_ ,” she begs. “Don’t hurt him. I love him!”

Her protests only egg him on, and Ward moves mechanically into the cargo bay. A man on a mission. He reaches for the manual override panel next to the cargo doors.

“You wouldn’t!” Skye squeals, and drags at his arm to steer him back toward the stairs. But Ward is heavy and unaffected by all her attempts to deter him. She digs her heels in. “Ward! Ward, you’ll kill us all! Don’t open that, Ward! Snap out of it!” she screams and thrashes at him.

Suddenly, Ward goes down, falling to the floor in a motionless heap, taking the dog down with him. Skye catches Rufus before he can hit the floor, and looks up to find May standing there, right where Ward used to be, with arm outstretched in true karate-chop fashion. Skye blinks.

“What happened?” May says evenly and lowers her arm.

“He went into one of his rages,” Skye says, clutching the dog to her chest. It’s all she cares to explain.

“What is that?” May points at the bundle in her shirt and steps toward Skye to get a closer look.

“Nothing!” Skye yells, startling FitzSimmons, who’ve just appeared at the bottom of the staircase, and earning an eyebrow raise from May. The older woman doesn’t press the issue, and Skye takes the out, brushing past FitzSimmons. She climbs the cold metal stairs in bare feet, Rufus nuzzled protectively against her flannel. 

Skye doesn’t stop until she’s reached her bunk. She moodily closes the door behind her and collapses onto her messy pile of covers. Rufus too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward makes amends with Skye and Rufus. Sort of.

Two nights later, Skye hears another knock at her door. This time it’s softer, more tentative.

“Enter if you dare,” she mumbles around a Twizzler trapped in her lips. She knows who it is. And she’s really not in the mood.

Ward slides the door open only halfway and finds her lying in bed on her stomach, plunking away at her keyboard. Rufus is nestled in a mountain of clothes by Skye’s pillow, contentedly resting his chin on Skye’s arm, making it damn near impossible for her to type. 

Her lips are blue and she’s sucking on something that, as far as Ward’s concerned, looks like a piece of rubber. Sugary, glistening, bright blue rubber. What flavor even is that? Ward darts his tongue out to wet his own lips before he clears his throat. “Mind if I…?” He’s leaning on the door with his elbow, gesturing into her bunk with his finger. 

She spares him a rather uninterested glance before looking back at her screen. She rips at the Twizzler with her teeth. “Ask _him_ ,” she nods to Rufus, her mouth full. “He’s the one you carried around like a ragdoll and tried to throw out the plane.”

Rufus yawns sleepily and smacks his mouth, readjusting his chin on Skye’s arm before he falls back asleep.

“Ugh, traitor,” Skye accuses Rufus before turning back to the screen and addressing Ward. “I guess that’s a yes.” Ward steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” Skye adds, pointedly spreading her legs across the bed, leaving Ward no place to sit.

She’s wearing those jeans today. The ones that hug her in all the right places. Ward’s not the type to notice her clothes, but the first time Skye wore those jeans to a briefing, he couldn’t hear a damn thing Coulson said. And then the next time he’d passed her in the hallway, she’d changed. He wondered if she did it because of him. Maybe he was staring too openly. He was sure he’d never see those jeans again, but now…here they were. Did she know he was coming? No, no. He was the last person Skye expected to see. Ward had been sidelined after his little outburst the other night. He wasn’t back on duty until tomorrow morning. Skye would never wear something just for him. Which is good. He doesn’t want her to know that he’s staring.

Oh god. He’s staring.

Ward shakes his head and looks at the carpet. He thinks he can still see the pee spot. “Look, Skye...” He leans his back against the bunk door, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing black cargos again. Probably just to irritate her. “About the other night.” He’s really not sure what he came here to say.

So Skye says it for him. “You lost your shit.”

“I know.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Yeah.”

“That was a _really_ shitty thing to do.”

“Yes.”

“I mean, shit, what am I supposed to do when you get like that?”

“Skye.”

“And Rufus is probably scarred for life after all that shit you pulled.” Rufus smacks his mouth again and paws at her arm, clearly lost in a dream. Skye mumbles ‘shut up’ in his direction; he isn’t helping her case.

Ward runs a hand through his hair. “Skye…”

“You piece of shit!” She slams her laptop closed and spins on Ward.

“Okay, your vocabulary could really use some work.”

“I trusted you, Ward. I showed you him in confidence hoping you’d help me—”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he interrupts her. “In confidence? Showed me? You hid the damn dog in the closet. And then he peed on my shoe.”

“I’d like to think we’re past that.” Skye huffs and rolls onto her side, propping herself on her elbow and pushing the rest of her Twizzler past her blue lips and into the depths of her mouth. She’s looking at Ward with a mixture of disgust and hope, chewing like the she didn’t quite realize how big that last piece of Twizzler was.

“Okay…” he says cautiously, furrowing his brow at the rubber she’s chewing and holding up his palms. “So, we’re good now?”

“You’re infuriating!” Skye yells into her pillow and proceeds to bury her head underneath it, jostling Rufus in his sleep. 

She hears Ward sigh and thinks he might leave. _Good, leave_ , she thinks. His boots are heavy against the carpet, and Skye expects to hear the door slide open, when instead she feels a weight at her side. Suddenly her mattress is dipping, and she clutches her sheets to keep from rolling toward him. 

“Let’s start over,” she hears him say. His voice is lower, more gravelly than usual. She isn’t sure if he’s tired of her or just plain tired of everything, but either way, the man sounds defeated. Like he doesn’t have a fight in him tonight. His back is touching her hip. _Damn him_. Skye stays under her pillow.

Skye’s about to snark at him, tell him _careful, you’re acting human, you’re going to regret this in the morning_ but then she feels him lift a hand, and her entire body goes rigid. Her fingers grip the edges of her sheets more tightly. Her breaths come in shallow pants at the anticipation of his touch. 

Just when the wait begins burning her skin, she feels Ward reach over her and lift the now snoring furball from its pile of laundry. Alarmed, she pushes out of the cocoon of her pillow and sits bolt upright, immediately reaching for the dog. 

“Give him back.”

“Shhh,” Ward admonishes. He’s holding the tiny creature on its back, with his thumbs underneath its armpits. The pup looks so small cradled in Ward’s large hands. _Dangerous hands_ , Skye notes. He could crush Rufus any number of ways before Skye even had a chance to protest. She moves away from him, settling her back against the wall. _Easy does it_. She doesn’t know enough of Ward’s triggers to know how not to pull them.

Ward is eyeing him skeptically. “He’s a terrible guard dog.” 

His comment elicits a puff of air from Skye as she lets out a laugh. “He was born like, yesterday, Ward.”

“He sleeps too much.” 

Skye rolls her eyes and touches the hem of Ward’s shirt with an orange-painted toe. “And you don’t sleep enough,” she says gently. She searches the dark spots under his eyes for answers. There are none. He stares at the dog. “Also, he’s cuddly,” she shrugs. “I like him like this.”

Ward cracks a cynical smile that’s gone a second later. “So between the two of us, you’ve got everything you need.” He regrets it immediately when he hears a small gasp come from Skye.

She forgets to exhale, and when she remembers, it comes out shaky and a little more unsure than she’d like. What does he mean? Everything she needs? Like somebody has to protect her, and Ward doesn’t sleep because… Does he lose sleep over her? She studies his face. His eyebrows are knitted together in faux concentration on the dog. His stubble’s a little thicker than usual. There’s a cut across his cheekbone he got on a mission last week. It’s healing nicely, along with a tiny gash on his bottom lip. _His lips_. She sighs, almost inaudibly. She’s always liked his lips. She never fails to appreciate, when they’re sparring, how his unshaven face can be so sharp, but his lips can look so soft. 

She catches her toe tracing circles against Ward’s back, completely without her permission. He looks uncomfortable, like any moment he’s going to stand, unceremoniously shove the dog at her, and leave. Skye purses her lips. “Ward?”

He doesn’t look up at her. “He’s not so bad,” Ward concedes, moving the creature’s front paws around by its elbows, seemingly fascinated by how its paws flop around like a little puppet. Rufus rewards him by opening his eyes, regarding Ward’s face with a dopey expression. “He can be trained.”

Skye laughs at the sudden image of Rufus and Ward together on the sparring mats. Ward lifts an eyebrow at her, finally meeting her gaze.

“It doesn’t matter.” She looks down and plays with a loose thread on her sheets. “I can’t keep him. Coulson’s orders.”

“You told him?”

“He found out, of course,” Skye looks back up at Rufus. “I mean, I’m stealing snacks from the kitchen and hoarding them in my room. It was kind of obvious.”

“And that’s…” Ward looks around at her messy room, candy wrappers and all, “a giveaway why?”

“You know I hate peanut butter.” 

“It’s packed with protein,” he scolds.

“Your _mom’s_ packed with protein,” she quips. 

“What?”

Skye rolls her eyes. “Point is, Rufus has to go.” Her face falls a little when she says it.

Ward looks back at the dog, who’s slapping his tail against Ward’s thumb in a rhythm. He’s got the largest, most pitiful eyes Ward has ever seen. Apart from Skye’s. “Probably for the best,” he rumbles out quietly.

“Yeah.” She plays with a loose strand of hair that’s fallen into her face. “Probably.”

“Rufus was a stupid name anyway.” Ward straightens back up. Rufus is starting to wiggle. 

“He’s right there you know,” she defends the dog’s honor. “He can hear you.”

“Not for long.”

“Ouch.” There’s no conviction in either of their voices, and Skye is absently sucking on her bottom lip, probably comforting herself with blue raspberry flavor. “Ward?” she finally asks.

Ward moves to hand her the wiggling dog, seemingly ready to leave. “Skye,” he replies.

“When I mentioned Buddy—”

“Let’s not.”

“No. I want to. I wanted to say I’m sorry.” She accepts the pup, and their hands brush together briefly. Ward pulls back like she’s burned him.

“You don’t need to,” he says gruffly, pushing himself to stand.

Skye pulls him back down with a foot on his thigh. “I hate doing this. I hate dancing around situations like this. One day, I want to talk.” His fist is starting to clench in his lap, but she isn’t backing down. “I’m not the enemy, Ward. I’m your friend.”

He looks at the offending foot on his thigh and pins Skye down with a glare. “I’m your SO,” he says severely. “And this? Is not professional.”

“Professional?!” she scoffs. “You’re sitting on my bed. You’re petting my dog. You came in here to say something, didn’t you?” her voice is nearly at the volume of yelling. “Well Rufus and I are getting tired of waiting. So say it!” she spits. A challenge. Glare for glare.

When he lunges for her, she instinctively moves her foot to Ward’s stomach and pushes to hold him off. She yelps. “Ward, please…”

He moves her foot aside easily and grabs the back of her neck, nearly crushing Skye and the dog, and smashes his lips against hers. A surprised gasp turns into a breathy moan and Skye lets go of the dog, reaching instead for the sides of Ward’s face. She pulls him harder against her and makes a pleasured purring sound in the back of her throat while they kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the embarrassment of Rufus, Ward and Skye get steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.k.a. the sexiest, fluffiest pile of goop I've ever regretfully written. And I do mean _literal_ fluff. Because, you know, Rufus.

Rufus is stuck in between Ward and Skye, completely forgotten about. He extracts himself from the smash of their bodies and hops off the bed, squeezing himself underneath it. 

Ward’s got one hand braced on the wall and the other on the back of Skye’s neck, roughly holding her mouth against his. He’s moving up the bed to be closer, digging his knees into the mattress between her legs. He’s relentless, never letting up on the kiss, even when Skye tries to break it.

Skye’s got her hands in self-protection braced against Ward’s chest. She’s pushing him away—he’s suffocating her—but it comes off more like pulling with the way her fingers curl into his shirt and she’s gasping into his mouth. She doesn’t have time to think. She didn’t even know he wanted this. Sure, he looks at her ass sometimes, but who doesn’t? She’s even caught Simmons looking. How long has Ward wanted this? Does he even know how she feels?

Skye gets a hand to his throat and pushes him away just enough to gulp for air. “Ward,” she rasps out, “what—”

He grips her wrist and pins it to the wall, bruising his mouth against hers once more and swallowing each cry that tries to escape. Just when Skye’s sure she’s going to pass out, he mercifully breaks the kiss. 

“It is so hard,” he says, darting his tongue out to taste Sky’s bottom lip, “to take you seriously,” he sucks her lip into his mouth, “when your lips are _so damn blue_.” She tastes like cheap candy. Ward snakes his tongue past her parted lips and finds the tip of her own tongue. He massages it gently before sliding deeper and tangling their tongues together. 

Skye just barely catches her breath before Ward seals their mouths again, kissing her more softly now. He faintly tastes of whisky—it’s sharp and bitter at first, but finishes smooth on the tip of his tongue. He settles his hands in her hair. His grip is firm, confident. His scent is heady and promising. Skye relaxes into his chest and lets him taste her for minutes on end, all swirling tongues and hungry lips and appreciative little noises. The tiny organ between her hips is throbbing, but she knows they can’t. They can’t do that.

Can they?

Ward’s stubble is burning Skye’s cheeks, and she thinks about it burning the sensitive flesh of her thighs. All the most sensitive parts of her body, exposed to his dangerous mouth. To do with what he pleases. What if he went into a rage while she was exposed? She shivers at the thought. She regrets that it makes her arousal grow even rawer.

She finds herself sliding down the mattress underneath him and lying flat on her back. He follows her lips and keeps himself braced on his hands and knees overtop of her. She reaches underneath his shirt.

Ward jerks back and catches her hand. _This is it_ , she thinks. _I’ve crossed a line_. Making out is one thing, but putting her hands underneath her SO’s clothes is going too far. She knows she’s about to be reprimanded. She covers her face with a hand. Her cheeks are hot. “I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Ward interrupts, his voice not his own. 

“What?” Skye moves her hand from her face and peers up at Ward where he sits on his knees above her. His eyes are dark and feral, every muscle in his forearms and torso tensed. His chest is rising and falling in short bursts, fists are clenching, face is flushed. She suddenly feels very small, like a tender lamb caught in the brush for his taking. 

“We have to stop,” he pants out at last, but his voice is devoid of conviction. His eyes grow even darker. His short black bangs are falling over his forehead.

Ward is losing control; she knows it. She toes the line anyway, parting her lips and exposing her throat to Ward’s hungry gaze. “Do you want me?” she asks, slightly arching her back off the mattress. Her nipples are straining against her shirt and aching to be in his mouth.

“Skye, _don’t_ ,” he warns, veins protruding from his forearms with the effort of holding himself at bay. He can see that her legs are trembling—from desire or fear, he’s not sure. His clouded judgement says they’re one in the same. She looks like easy prey in his state of spiking adrenaline. He has to get out of here _now_ , lock himself in his bunk, get this out of his system. 

But now she’s parting her thighs, ever so slightly, inviting him in. Her lips are still swollen from his earlier assault. He’s shaking his head at her. _No_.

She sensuously moves her hips against the bed and prides herself when he hisses. She’s got no idea what she’s doing. Ward is a trained killer, coursing with Asgardian rage from the staff, with unknown triggers she’s got a knack for pulling. But she’s wanted him for _so_ long. Wanted to know if her breasts fit nicely in his palms, if his fingers felt calloused against her soft skin, if he tasted acrid or salty. The price of his rage seems a small thing now that she’s got him aching to fuck her. 

So she takes her taunt even further, moving her foot to the front of his thigh and feeling the tense muscle there. His jaw clenches noticeable tighter. He wraps his fingers around her ankle, but doesn’t yet push her away.

She slowly moves her foot closer. “You’re afraid of losing yourself,” she muses, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her heartbeat loud enough that he can probably feel it in her foot. She steadies her leg to keep herself from shaking. “It’s okay.” Closer. _Closer_. His grip on her ankle tightens, and he almost seems to be pulling her toward him. Her foot ghosts over the pulsing length in his pants and she whispers, “Lose yourself in me, Grant.”

It was the last coherent sentence she made that entire evening. Looking back, she vaguely remembers hearing him snarl _I’m not responsible for this_ before dragging her down the bed by her ankles and trapping her between his thighs. He’s strong. She feels like they’re on the sparring mats, going over a drill. Except that her SO is pinning her down by her hips and ripping something out of his pocket. 

This is not a drill.

Ward releases his pocket knife and she yelps when he goes for her throat. He tears the blade through her clothes instead, from the collar of her shirt to the hem of her pants, and then stabs his knife into the mattress. _Show off_ Skye thinks, but her thoughts are cut short when the thin piece of fabric between her breasts pops open, and Ward pries her bra and shirt apart like he’s opening a damn birthday present. 

The fabric slips roughly over both of her nipples and her breasts become bare to Ward’s gaze. But she doesn’t have time to register her nakedness before his hands are on the button of her jeans and then tugging her pants down her legs. She suddenly feels _very_ exposed. He lifts her legs and presses his thumbs to his thighs, holding her open for him to stare at her mound.

She’s soaked. He’s left her panties on. It’s the only bit of dignity she still has left. After all, her shirt is flayed open and she’s lying in it, pinned like a butterfly to a board for Ward to dissect with his eyes. She can feel herself dripping down her ass and into the mattress. She knows he knows. His nostrils are flaring like some kind of wild animal and he’s massaging his thumbs into her thighs, painfully. His dick is straining against his pants, but he doesn’t attend to the zipper. He moves his face to her mound and licks her through the fabric.

“Gnuuugh!” Skye calls out, and suddenly she feels the cold metal of his pocket knife slipping beneath the crotch of her panties and against her sensitive flesh. She becomes very still and looks at Ward, panic seeping up into her eyes. He’s lost in his own erotic haze as he slices the blade through her panties, revealing her cunt to his mouth. He dips down and takes a wet fold between his lips.

Skye jerks into his mouth and grabs a fist full of sheets.

He sucks the length of the fold and releases it, darting his tongue out to taste her musk and actually _growls_ when the tip of his tongue meets her opening. Skye is babbling incoherently, opening her legs as wide as she can, hoping somehow to get him deeper, further. Ward drags his lips and tongue through her wet flesh until he finds her clit, and Skye nearly screams when he sucks the tiny bud into his warm, hungry mouth.

“Ohhhh! Ohhh G— Ahh. Nnnnnnnnn yes yes, oh ssshit, _yes_.” She puddles into the mattress and rocks her hips in an up and down motion to get his mouth to stroke her. But Ward doesn’t have time for this. He releases her, flips her onto her stomach, and pushes her up to her knees. He rips off the rest of her panties and buries his face in her snatch from behind, sucking and lapping at her like he’s starving and she’s the last meal on earth. Skye’s breasts are bouncing from between her ripped shirt, her SO’s face assaulting her pussy, sticky wet noises filling the air while he eats her. This cannot be happening. 

A single finger joins his tongue and he snakes them both through her pink flesh, making her tremble. Skye feels like there are _two_ tongues licking her, reaching all her most sensitive spots simultaneously. One circles her throbbing clit while the other teases her wet, clenching channel. 

“Please,” she whispers, her breath shaky. She pushes back to impale herself on his tongue (or is it his finger?), and realizes too late that he’s lined up his finger to push into her ass. Now he’s buried past the first knuckle, shooting a burning sensation through her, spreading warmth in her core. She cries out and it only eggs him on further. He shoves it deeper, to the second knuckle, then pushes a finger from his other hand into her cunt.

“Sh _it!_ ” Skye falls to her elbows. He steadily pistons his finger in and out of her cunt while slowly moving the finger inside her ass. Skye begs, “Ward… Wa—Ahhhhh. Ohhh fuck. Ward! Stop. Wait. _Wait_ …” He pistons harder, his cunt finger pushing in every time his ass finger pulls back out. It burns _so much_ , but the pressure in Skye’s ass is too good for her to pull away. 

He adds a second finger to her cunt. Faster and harder he abuses her holes, and her elbows dig into the mattress from the impact. With every thrust, her ass feels tighter and more resistant to the foreign object probing it. When the buildup inside her becomes unbearable, Skye begins meeting him thrust for thrust and cries _please_ and _please Ward, please_.

She yells like a woman in childbirth when it hits her. She’s vaguely aware that every single person on the bus knows she’s having an orgasm. She clamps down on Ward’s fingers so tight that he momentarily stills before continuing to piston through her muscle contractions, keeping the rhythm he’s set.

Skye is swollen and sensitive now, and Ward is still going strong. She’s pulling her aching body away from him, slumping into a heap on the bed, but Ward has other plans. He jerks her back up onto her wobbly limbs and she hears him unzip his pants. A moment later and his large head is pushing through the tight ring of her opening. Skye has to widen her legs and relax to coax him past her entrance, and then her body sucks him in and they moan together in bliss.

“Skye…” he says at last, his fingers hooked around her hips. 

She doesn’t have time to adjust to his girth before he starts hammering away at her walls, drawing cries and protests and even louder encouragements from her mouth. He jackknifes into her, hitting her cervix every time, earning a cacophony of screams. There’s nowhere to pull away—he’s holding her too tight. She claws at the sheets and begs for a moment’s respite from the rod slamming into her. 

It feels like he’s spearing all the way through her, like he’s going to break through her womb and push out through her throat.

Ward begins moving her hips back into him, meeting his own thrusts, milking himself into her fuckhole. His pace is frantic as he watches his cock disappearing into Skye’s sex, and then reemerging coated in her juices. She claws up the bed and tries to pull away, but he yanks her back toward him and continues slamming into her. She closes her thighs to slow his pace, but he pulls her open again with his thumbs and rewards her by hooking them into her stretching entrance alongside his dick.

Then he pushes a thumb into her asshole and slithers a finger against her clit, and immediately Skye clamps down on him again, moaning his name in disoriented pleasure.

“Grant!” Once again, he continues to ram Skye all the way through her orgasm. “Grant! I can’t—Ohhhhh. So….good….so…… _fuck_. Stop. Please. I need—I can’t—” 

When she slumps onto the bed this time, he pulls his pulsing member from her sex and rolls her onto her back. She lies there trembling, unable to move, recovering and seeing stars. Finally she manages to sit up, scooting closer to offer her hands or her mouth—anything but what he’s got planned. Ward pushes her back down onto the bed and lifts her knees to her chest. 

Skye is exhausted, slowly drifting out of consciousness. She hears Ward peeling off his shirt, and opens one eye to find his pecs and torso sweaty with exertion. His pants and underwear are still around his thighs. His dick is hard and glistening from tip to base with her cum. He enters her again, this time lying completely on top of her, and she doesn’t have the strength to protest. 

He pushes his pelvis flush against hers and his head shoves past her cervix, demanding clearance. She feels her walls stretching, accommodating every intrusion, and she wonders when her body decided to betray her. She needs to sleep. The fluttering sensation deep in her womb is the only thing keeping her rimming this side of consciousness. 

She feels his hands start kneading her breasts as he sets a rhythm again. Against her will, her nipples harden and her areolas practically buzz with the need to be sucked. She’s aroused again. She can’t be. Her body is failing her. She can’t take another pounding right now. She can’t.

But oh, she does.

Ward sees her nipples harden and pinches them immediately, watching Skye open her mouth in a silent scream. His pace becomes merciless again, his balls slapping loudly against her ass. They both know everyone can hear, but there’s not a damn thing to be done about it now.

He roughly presses a hand into her stomach and thrusts upward to meet his hand, massaging Skye’s walls from both sides. He hits the same spot again and again, making Skye’s eyes roll back into her head. She locks her ankles behind his back and hangs from his hips while he pounds her viciously into the headboard. She’s breaking. His cock is shattering her into pieces, one amazing thrust at a time. He watches her face intently, his mouth an inch away from hers. 

She can’t take any more. She can’t take—

Ward erupts inside her, spurting hot liquid against her cervix and into all of her crevices. He grunts and continues to rut against her until he’s milked himself dry, and then he collapses into Skye’s neck, his sticky skin against hers. 

His body is heavy, but so are her eyelids. Skye falls asleep with him still inside, sore and completely spent. 

**

Ward wakes up at 3:52 am with the lamp still on. He’s face down in a pillow with bed sheets twisted around his torso and sticking to his stomach. Groaning a little, he turns his head to look at his watch, then collapses back to the pillow. 

What has he done? He knows this is Skye’s bunk; the blue Twizzler wrapper on the nightstand gives it away. He shifts a little and notes that his back feels strained. Further inspection reveals that his pants are still around his thighs. He isn’t sure if he should pull them back up or take them all the way off. He has the energy for neither, so he lies there conflicted squinting up at the lamp.

That’s when he notices something cold and wet poking into his spine. He peers over his shoulder to find that Rufus is fast asleep on top of him, breathing warm little puffs of air into the skin of Ward’s back. _Great_. He’s just done a stellar job keeping Skye and his feelings at bay. Now he’s got a furball snuggling his back, and that damn lamp is really starting to bother him. He swats at the switch in an effort to turn it off, just rest his eyes for a bit.

His stupid uncoordinated arm hits the shade instead, and Skye makes a mmmming sound somewhere behind him. It tickles the hair on the back of his neck and makes him feel warm inside. _Double great_. He is really in trouble. Ward closes his eyes in defeat and slowly rolls onto his back, dumping Rufus off on Skye’s stomach.

When he turns to her, she’s asleep and facing him, lips slightly parted, hair tousled over her cheeks and shoulders, a hand thrown comfortably across her lower abdomen. Aside from the bedsheet tangled between her legs and snaking over one shoulder, she is completely naked. All soft skin and perfect sized breasts and a small jewel piercing through her navel. The sight takes his breath and he curses himself because never, ever, will he be satisfied waking up without her again.

Indignantly whining at Ward, Rufus resettles on Skye’s stomach, causing the sleeping girl’s eyes to slowly drift open. She looks at the pup, then immediately looks at Ward and he feels caught. _Shit_. Unable to explain his state of awakeness and staring, Ward simply smirks at her and lies back down on his pillow, never breaking eye contact with Skye. 

She replies with a tiny smile of her own, her cheeks flushing a little. “Hi,” she breathes, and he doesn’t respond. Her eyelashes are far too mesmerizing. She’s blinking up at him, suddenly aware of her nakedness, and covers her breasts with a rope of sheets she finds around her shoulder. 

Ward reaches down to untangle the mess of bedding, then pulls the sheet up over Skye and Rufus. Skye looks grateful, but Rufus whines again and releases a puff of air at the sheet before curling back into her stomach. Ward shimmies his pants up and tucks himself in, leaving the zipper undone.

Skye looks at Ward again, her face relaxed and content. “That…” she searches for words, “was incredible.”

He allows the corners of his lips to curl upward before his expression returns to business. “Did I hurt you?” he asks seriously. He certainly hurt himself with the way his lower back feels.

Skye makes another _mmmm_ ing sound and his heart flip flops in his chest. “In the most amazing way possible,” she finally purrs, clearly reliving the events of a few short hours ago. 

Ward raises an eyebrow at her.

“I’ve never been fucked like that before,” she explains, removing a strand of hair from her lips and looking innocently over at Ward. His face appears conflicted.

“I could’ve hurt you. I mean _really_ hurt you.” He’s not quite scolding her, but not quite happy with her either. Sure, he should’ve left, but Skye shouldn’t have taunted him either. He’s just a human, despite her accusations otherwise. 

Although, he has to admit, that _was_ the best sex he’s ever had in his life. And Skye is…Skye is incredible.

“I don’t believe that,” she says, and she seems to be looking through him into his soul. She tentatively reaches her fingers out to touch his stubble. Her lips soon follow, brushing his cheek in a chaste kiss before pulling her warmth away altogether. “Did you have to cut my clothes off, you big oaf?” She slaps her hand against his side. “Bras are expensive, you know.”

Ward isn’t satisfied with her lips being so far away. He pulls her against him and she lets out a squeak when his lips softly slip against hers. “I’ll buy you another one,” he replies against her mouth. She lets out a giggle and he makes a questioning _hnn?_ into the kiss.

“You, bra shopping?” she manages between kisses. “That’s funny.” He deepens the kiss and they both lose interest in talking for a while.

After a moment, he pulls back and notes, “Your lips aren’t blue anymore.”

“You kissed the blues away,” she says cheekily, and can’t help but laugh at her own joke while Ward scrunches his face and shakes his head.

“That was horrible,” he says through knitted eyebrows, then pulls her back into another kiss and relishes the taste of sleep on her mouth.

When he lets go, Skye is smiling sheepishly, laughing a little to herself. “You know everyone heard us, right?” The color returns to her cheeks. “Ugh. That is _so_ embarrassing.”

“You certainly don’t taste embarrassing,” Ward returns quickly, placing gentle kisses on her throat now. He’s not ashamed in the slightest.

Skye claps a hand to her mouth and squeals through it, “That’s even _more_ embarrassing!” She swats him away and hides herself in the pillow.

Ward actually laughs. A genuine, happy, relaxed sort of sound that brings Skye out of her pillow immediately to see what the hell is happening. She beams up at him, then transfers the dog to Ward’s chest (Rufus sighs indignantly) and turns into him, resting her face in Ward’s arm.

“You’re not so bad,” she echoes his words from earlier, her lips ghosting over his biceps. She gives his arm a soft bite and he flinches. “You can be trained.”

“You ass.”

Skye laughs again and playfully flops a hand over top of his face, landing two fingers in his mouth and one dangerously close to being in his nose. Ward grunts his disapproval and blows at her offending digits, which of course makes Skye laugh even more. 

What the hell is he going to do with her?

He decides there’s nothing that can be done, and switches off the lamp.


End file.
